


I will fight tooth and nail to see you through

by 14million_constellations



Series: I can't carry you forever (but I can hold you now) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Cap may seem a little OOC, Cliffhanger, Crying, Fighting, Fluff, Hurt Peter, Hydra, Irondad, Irondad wumph series, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Near Death Experiences, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Spider-son, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trapped, friday - Freeform, good good irondad feels, hypovolemic shock, stab wounds, tony is alive and well, well as well as he can be, wumph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-27 15:08:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20409784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/14million_constellations/pseuds/14million_constellations
Summary: He ignored the screams of both the bullets and their opponents and kept his eyes glued to the red and blue figure darting around the battlegrounds. The boy seemed to be persevering as well, so Tony let out a short breath, feeling slightly relieved.--or--A fight against Hydra leads to Tony's worst fears becoming a reality, and he just hopes that it isn't too late to shake this nightmare.





	1. Ignite your bones

Tony was surprised he hadn’t gone deaf by now. 

Either it is the gunshots overhead, or Clint screaming over the coms, he was sure his ears were bleeding by the five-minute mark of battle. But, through some miraculous force (sheer willpower, most likely?) he persevered. 

He ignored the screams of both the bullets and their opponents and kept his eyes glued to the red and blue figure darting around the battlegrounds. The boy seemed to be persevering as well, so Tony let out a short breath, feeling slightly relieved. 

“Are we winning?” Scott asks, his voice cutting into Tony’s head. 

“The fact that you need to ask that scares me,” Clint answers. 

Steve makes a noise over the line, then says, “I would say that we’re tied.” 

The coms are silent for a few minutes as the team goes back to fighting; Tony taking down Hydra soldiers left and right, his gaze never leaving the red and blue blob for too long. 

SHIELD had tasked a small group of them to take down a Hydra base in some remote part of the German wilderness. Tony had not been excited to go on the trip, especially since Cap would be in attendance -- they were still trying to forgive each other over Siberia -- so he was excited just to get the whole thing over with. 

But then Fury had sent Peter along with them. Something about how he wanted the kid to gain experience. 

The whole idea was just setting Tony on edge. His gut feeling was bad. Sure, the kid was a great fighter. But he’d never been against Hydra before -- those guys could really pack a punch. So Tony made it his sole priority to keep eyes on the boy and make sure he was safe, no matter what. 

“Whose plan was this again?” Clint says, sounding out of breath. “I may have zoned out on the jet.” 

At least three people groan. 

“It was Cap’s,” Scott replies. 

“No wonder we’re not winning,” Tony says, trying not to sound too smug when Steve audibly growls. 

“Watch it, Stark,” the captain snaps, then he grunts, hopefully taking down an agent or two. 

Tony wanted to say something snarky, but the lack of Peter’s voice was starting to worry him, and he tries his best to tune the rest of the team out. 

“Pete, you okay, kid?” 

“This is awesome, Mr. Stark!” Peter suddenly cries gleefully over the coms. 

Tony smiles in relief, “Glad you think so, kid.” 

He decides to leave the Hydra horror stories for another day. At least when he knows that Peter will never have to face them again, and he won’t be scared out of his wits when going onto the battlefield.

So with that, the fighting continues. After another fifteen minutes or so, the hoard of Hydra soldiers has thinned out, so Tony assumes that they might just be on the winning side. 

Tony takes down his last opponent, the soldier’s body falling to the ground in a heap. The man’s hand was still clutching the gun he was aiming towards Tony’s chest. There is a smoldering hole punctured through the Hydra agent’s torso, and Tony grimaces under his mask. 

That was the exact kind of thing he didn’t want Peter seeing. 

Tony breathed deeply, his eyes roaming the land around him. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to; they were fighting in a deep forest, the trees some of the tallest he’s ever seen. Small Hydra buildings were peppered around the landscape, and about a mile away from Tony was a large structure that resembled a small castle. The walls were made of gray cobblestone, and the windows were barred. 

When they first landed, Tony had chuckled under his breath and wondered if Hydra had just taken over a Medieval Times Theatre. It all looked straight out of a history book. 

The smaller buildings around him were nothing more then sheds. Metal, and cold, and shining in the limited sun that beamed through the trees. 

Suddenly, the world grows quiet. Far too quiet for Tony’s liking. 

The grounds are empty of the remaining Hydra agents, and besides the heavy breathing over the coms, it was so still and silent he would have been able to hear the snowfall. 

“Did we win?” Peter’s voice asks eagerly. 

Tony hopes they did. He hopes that the enemy fled, and they could all just pack up and head home, and he could get Peter back into the protection of the compound. At this point, the billionaire was even thinking about how Queens was safer for the boy then this forest. 

Peter’s voice is happy over the line, “Mr. Stark, I think we won!” 

But that uneasy feeling had made itself comfortable in Tony’s gut, and his horrible suspicions were only proven correct when Steve’s voice yells over the coms, “Bomb! Take cover!” 

In seconds, the sounds of explosions sounded off distantly, and someone screams in Tony’s ear. 

“Peter!” Tony shouts, his heart pounding like it was trying to break free of his ribcage. “Peter, Pete--” 

He cuts himself short when the ground not fifteen feet away blows apart from a hidden land mine. Tony yelps in surprise and jumps to the side, hitting the ground and rolling away from the raining dirt and rock. 

Panting, he pushes himself onto his elbows and stares ahead, listening for either the sound of more explosions or even better, a certain voice filling his head. But he was greeted with neither. 

Instead, he got soft static in return. The coms were down.  _ Fuck.  _

“Peter?” Tony tries, getting to his feet. “Peter? Anyone there?” 

“The communication systems are down due to technical malfunctions,” FRIDAY informs Tony. 

“Damn it. FRI, what’s Peter’s location?” 

There is a beat of silence before the AI speaks. “Peter’s tracker is down as well.” 

“What!” Tony exclaims. 

“Peter’s tracker is down as--” 

Tony resists a growl and waves the AI off. “Yeah, got it, FRI. Thanks.” 

“No problem, sir.” 

Tony starts to walk in the direction he last saw Peter, hoping the kid was smart enough to listen to Cap and take cover. Tony didn’t want to think about what he would find if Peter was stupid enough to ignore orders like that. 

“He’s probably not even there,” he grumbles to himself, his armor clicking with every step. “Kid too damn fast. Probably on the other side of the forest; probably hiding out on the quinjet. God damn it, Pete, you better be safe or else--” 

Suddenly, a heavy force is ramming into Tony’s side, and he is sailing to the right, rolling into the darkness of a small Hydra base. One of those steel metals shelters that were now empty. 

Tony grunts as he comes to a stop, the rocky ground underneath him not proving to be a comfortable resting spot. He’s about to jump to his feet, ready to defend against whatever or whoever pushed him down, when a bomb just outside of his shelter goes off with a deafening  _ bang. _

Tony falls back to the ground, his arms covering his head protectively, despite his helmet still being on. Quite a few large pieces of rock slam down onto him, most rolling off, but a few stays to rest. Tony just keeps still until the explosion stops. 

“Jesus,” he mutters, his ears ringing. 

He grunts as he tries to get up, but a few of the rocks seem to have pinned him down. He tries to get his thrusters going, but the suit is unresponsive, and Tony swears loudly and colorfully when his actions prove faulty. 

But then, he hears a muffled,  _ “Mr. Stark?”  _

Tony freezes. “Peter?” 

Then all of the weight pressing down on his body starts to move. He can hear someone grunting above him, and as soon as the last rock has been removed, his head pops up to see Peter standing above him. 

“Oh god, Peter!” Tony cries, relieved to see the boy. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, taking Tony’s arm and helping the man to his feet. 

“I’m fine,” Tony says, happy to find that that was the truth. “Are you?” 

Peter just stares at Tony for a second, before nodding his head. “Yes.” 

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. “You sure?” 

Another nod. “Yes.” 

“...Okay.”

Tony’s faceplate slides open, and he reaches up a hand to remove his helmet, then tossing it to his feet. Peter has already taken off his mask, and his hair looks sweaty, plastered to his forehead and mixed with dirt. 

Tony was just relieved to see that there wasn’t any blood on his face. 

“I think we’re trapped,” Peter said, looking around the small shelter. 

The shelter had literally nothing in it. Not even proper flooring. The ground under them was just forest floor. Dirt and rock and the occasional spattering of pine needles from the giant trees outside. The walls looked thick and strong. The only light was from the bright glow of Tony’s arc reactor, and a few tiny beams of sun from small pinpricks in the rooftop. 

The worst part about the situation though was that the door, that was once open, was now blocked by a few fallen trees. 

“Fuck,” Tony mutters and walks over to the door. He places a hand on the huge, car-sized trunks that sat firmly in place. 

He gives a few strong pushes against the wood, but they refuse to budge. 

“We’re trapped,” Peter states. 

Tony turns and looks at the boy. “No. We’re… not.” 

_ Don’t freak him out,  _ the voice in his head chastises,  _ he’s just a kid.  _

Peter frowns. “Sure, and I’m a donkey. We’re stuck.” 

Tony’s lips pressed together as he steps towards the kid. “No, we’re not. And with that attitude you  _ are _ acting like an  _ ass, _ so cut it out.”

Peter mutters something under his breath, but Tony ignores it. Instead, he pulls the boy into a tight hug. He might be nervous, and his suit might be down, but that doesn't mean that Peter has to worry. 

But as soon as Tony’s arms are around the boy, Peter whimpers loudly, and Tony pulls back. 

“What?” Tony asks, holding Peter at an arm's length and staring at the now paling kid. 

“I’m fine,” Peter says, but Tony catches the tremor in his voice. 

“That’s a lie,” Tony says, already actively patting the kid down. 

Peter seems okay until Tony reaches just below his ribs. As soon as Tony’s hand touch, Peter makes a wounded noise and this time he doesn't try to hide it. Tony’s eyes widen as he feels the material on the right side of Peter’s suit was ripped, and it was damp with something dark. 

As Tony drew his fingers back, they were coated in blood, and the smell almost made him gag. 

_ “Peter,” _ Tony says, kneeling down to examine the wound. 

The cut was deep and started right underneath the boy’s ribs. It stretched across and wrapped over his side, almost stopping on his back. 

“Jesus Christ,” Tony mutters, and Peter hisses suddenly under his touch. 

Tony draws his hand back and tries not to stare at the suit slowly getting soaked with blood. 

“You should have told me,” Tony says, trying not to sound like he was scolding Peter. 

Tony taps his arc reactor and his suit melts away from his body. He grabs the bottom hem of his shirt, and rips, pulling a long strip of material and moving towards Peter. 

“What are you doing?” Peter asks, sounding like a small child and shrinking away from Tony. Tony immediately feels guilty about the fear now in Peter’s doe eyes. 

“Wrapping up the wound. The suit is unresponsive, and the coms are down, so until someone finds us, we have to stop the bleeding.” 

Peter, trembling, moves back towards Tony. He whimpers as Tony ties the material around the kid's ribs, and pulls the knot tight. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Tony apologizes quickly, gently pulling Peter back into a second hug. “I’m sorry, kiddo.” 

Peter latches on quickly. He pushes his face into Tony’s shirt, shakily inhaling the lingering scent of coffee on Tony’s shirt, now mingling with earthy pine. 

Tony presses his nose into the top of Peter’s curls. The boy shakes under the billionaire’s embrace, and Tony tries not to let it hurt him too much when Peter starts to softly sob. 

“It’s okay, buddy,” Tony whispers. “You’re gonna be okay. We both are.” 

Peter just shakes in response. 

  
  


….

  
  


Fifteen minutes later, Tony finds both of them curled up on the spongy ground, the wall cold against the soft material of the billionaire’s shirt. Tony stifled a groan as his back protested the sitting position, but he pushed through the discomfort, as Peter was practically sitting in Tony’s lap. 

The boy had latched himself onto Tony’s shirt, pulling his mentor close like a much smaller child desperately seeking comfort. Like he was afraid that Tony might slip away from him. 

But, despite Peter’s worry, it was actually Tony who was afraid of the boy slipping away from him. 

If he was to bring it up, he knew that the teenager would just protest that fear with the fact that he has his healing ability, but Tony was worried about how much Peter had lost before they had gotten trapped. Would he be able to save himself this time? 

Tony reaches a hand down and runs his fingers through the boy’s sweaty curls. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, sounding absolutely exhausted. 

Tony’s eyes dart down so he is staring at Peter’s sickly, pale face “What are you talking about?” 

“I didn’t try to tell you that I was hurt,” Peter’s voice is filled with that familiar tremor, and his eyes look watery in the glow of the reactor. “I pushed you in here. I got us trapped. With no help… this is all my fault.” 

Tears form in his eyes, and he bites down on his lip, the tears slipping free and rolling down his cheeks. 

Tony feels his heart shatter. “No, no, Pete… come on, bud.” 

The man wipes the tears from the boy’s face. Peter just leans in to Tony’s palm, humming softly. 

“Pete, it’s not your fault that we're here. It’s Hydra’s fault. Bud, if you didn’t push me into this shelter, I would be lying in a billion pieces all over the forest floor. I would have done the exact same thing if that mine was under you. You didn’t cause this, Peter, you saved me. Got it? You saved me.” 

Peter stares up at Tony for a second, before his face squeezes together and he dissolves into a bout of sobs. Tony gathers the boy up gently, pulling him close to his chest and cooing softly. 

Peter buries his face into Tony’s shoulder and holds onto his shirt tighter than before. 

“I got you, kiddo. I got you… don’t worry. We’re gonna get out. Together. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay…  _ okay, okay, okay, okay, okay…”  _

Tony continues his mantra and Peter continues to sob.

Did Tony believe what he was saying? No. But he was going to keep saying until he did. He made a promise, and he was going to fight tooth and nail to see that promise through. 


	2. And guide me home

“How long?” Peter’s weak voice asked. 

Tony sighed and turned his wrist over. “Half an hour,” Tony replies, “...now half an hour and one minute.” 

That’s how long they had been trapped in that tiny shelter. Tony had almost grown numb to the pain in his back, all physical sensation becoming absent, and pins and needles riddled his legs as they hadn’t moved from their sitting position against the wall. His blood simply refused to reach his feet anymore. 

With a second sigh, Tony’s hand fell back into its familiar motions of carding through Peter’s damp hair. The boy lacked any of the energy he displayed previously on the battlefield. His blinks were heavy, and his chest fell slower than before. 

Tony couldn’t help the overwhelming worry that sat in his stomach. 

“Do you think they forgot about us?” Peter asks. 

Tony’s eyes widen as he searches for the doubt in the boy’s comment, but he can’t detect anything. The question was purely genuine. 

“They didn’t forget,” Tony whispers, hoping to believe what he was saying. “The trackers are down, remember? They must just be having a hard time finding where we are.” 

Peter hums his response. 

Tony tries to quickly change the subject. “How are you feeling?”  _ Right now, you are the most important thing. _

Peter hums again. “'M tired.” 

Tony watches the boy’s eyes flutter closed, and in a spur of panic, the man quickly taps the boy’s face a few dozen times. A haphazard attempt to keep Peter from slipping away.

“Nope, no, sorry bud. No sleeping right now. Gotta keep awake.” 

_“Mmm-ugh,”_ Peter grumbles, trying and failing to push Tony’s hand away from his temple. 

“You are losing a lot of blood kiddo. We gotta keep those eyes open.” 

_ Can’t have you leaving us. Leaving me.  _

“I’m fine,” Peter whispers, “my healing. ‘Member?” 

Tony stares at the child sadly as Peter tries to fight for consciousness. In his attempt to stay awake, he has pried his eyes open as wide as they can go, but even that looks like it is draining the boy. 

“Yeah, Pete. Yeah, I remember.” 

_ But right now, that may not be enough.  _

  
  


….

  
  


Forty-five minutes. They had been trapped for forty- five minutes, and Peter’s healing seemed to be doing next to nothing to save the child. 

Sure, he had been conscious for longer than Tony would have had he been in the exact scenario, but that didn’t calm the billionaire’s nerves in the slightest. The only thing he could do was watch as Peter’s eyes would pop open every few seconds as he forced himself awake, and his health slowly diminished. 

“Tony,” Peter starts, his voice hoarse, “my head… _ hurts”  _

Tony brushes brown curls off of the boy’s temple. “I know, kiddo. I know. I’m sorry.” 

There were small tears forming in Peter’s eyes, and he blinks a few times, letting them slip-free and stream over his face and into his hairline. 

Peter had his head rested on Tony’s thighs; the sweat running off the boy and soaking into the material of Tony’s pants. Up until this point, Tony hadn’t trusted himself to let go of the boy. 

Maybe some part of him believed that he was the one keeping Peter with him. He was the glue sticking the boy to the Earth. He was the air be breathed into the child’s lungs. His remaining blood was being pumped into the spider-kid’s emptying veins. 

So when he removes his hands from Peter’s back and hair, the teen’s eyes snap up in surprise. 

Instead, Tony grabs the hem of his shirt and quickly removes it from his torso. The blue light from his arc-reactor brightens without the material shield in front of it. Peter still looks skeptical as the man presses the dark long-sleeve onto the wound tightly. 

The child instantly hisses loudly, and his hissing then turned to whimpers as he buries his face into Tony’s pant leg. 

“That bandage wasn’t working anymore,” Tony explains as Peter shakes. “Bled right through. We need more pressure on the wound. I’m sorry, Petey.” 

Peter just cries as Tony holds the wadded shirt in place. 

_ God, even his crying sounds weak.  _

Tony presses his lips together and leans his head back against the wall behind him. Even though he thought it selfish, he found himself trying to block the world out. Block out Peter’s soft sobs; block out the stale, coppery scent that has filled the small room; block out the chill now racking over his torso from the absence of his shirt, or the pins and needles riddling his feet. 

Block it all out. Everything until it is just the soft sounds of his own breathing filling his ears. 

Block it out until his legs aren't the only things that are numb anymore. 

  
  


….

  
  


Tony jolts awake with a soft gasp. 

He didn’t even realize that he was falling asleep, and hot guilt washes over him. Here he was telling Peter to keep himself awake, while he couldn’t even manage to do that. What kind of mentor was he? 

_ Wait… Peter!  _

Tony tries not to move the still body resting in his lap as he adjusts himself so he can get a clear look at the boy. Peter’s eyes were shut, his chest rising and falling in short, shallow breaths. 

A spike of panic makes Tony’s heart skip a beat, and he quickly threads his fingers into Peter’s hair, his secondhand coming to cup the child’s cheek. His anxiety only rose when he felt how chilly the teen’s pale skin was. The sweat gathering under his calloused palm was enough to make him want to burst into sobs. 

Clearly, Peter’s healing was working less and less. Tony just hoped that they weren't too late. 

The wadded shirt -- that was still resting over Peter’s wound -- was damp and reeked of blood. Tony grimaced as he pressed down, and drew a low whine from the resting boy. 

“Come on, Pete, wakey-wakey,” Tony says, his voice urgent as he tries to shake the boy awake with one hand. 

“Huh?” Peter mumbles, his eyes opening half-way. “Mis’er Sar…” 

The boy’s voice trails as his partly opened eyes dance around the dark room and finally rest unsteadily on Tony’s face. 

“Wha… where we…?” Peter sounds half asleep as his words slur around in his mouth. 

Tony can feel the sobs building in his chest. Obviously, the team wasn’t coming to get them. Without the help of the suit, they were helpless, and Peter was going to bleed to death, right here in the remains of an old HYDRA storage shed. 

Tears fell from Tony’s eyes and rolled down his neck, feeling hot and sticky as they decided to rest on his collarbone. 

“Oh, no... _no cry,”_ Peter mumbles sadly, trying and failing to raise his hand and wipe Tony’s tears away. 

Tony can only bite his lip and curl around the boy, trying to protect him from the world as he slowly slipped away. As he did the one thing that Tony was only trying to save him from. 

“I love you, Peter,” Tony whispers, knowing the boy would be able to hear it. “So damn much. You will never know how much I love you.” 

Peter is quiet for a moment before whispering back, “Ditto.” 

That elicited a small, wet chuckle from Tony, and he accepted the response, knowing it would be the best he was going to get from the child. 

He ignored the feeling of sweat as he ran his hand through the boy’s curls. 

“More than you’ll ever know.” 

  
  


….

  
  


When a loud cracking noise sounded from outside the blocked doorway, Tony’s arms wrapped protectively around Peter. The boy had lost consciousness a few minutes ago, so he didn’t protest to the sudden restriction. 

When the sheltered was flooded with light, Tony’s eyes screwed shut and he turned his head. Even though the outside sun was dim, the light was an assault to the billionaire’s vision, and he barely held back a hiss. 

“Tony?” 

Tony forced himself to look back, and he saw a huge figure entering the shed through the new opening in the trunk-barricade. 

“Hello?” Tony asked, squinting at the dark figure. 

The person kneeled down, and in better focus, Tony could make out the facial features of Steve. His face was full of worry, and Tony could swear he was tearing up again. 

_ They didn’t forget.  _

“Peter needs help,” Tony says quickly, “now.” 

Steve nods and takes the boy in his arms, Tony letting him reluctantly. Suddenly, Scott was standing next to him, almost appearing out of thin air, and Tony had to remind himself that Lang was able to shrink before he gave himself a heart attack. 

“Let me help you, Tony,” Scott says, sounding kinder and less down-to-business then Steve had been. 

Tony nods and allows the younger man to wrap an arm around his back and haul the Iron Man to his feet. Together, they made their way out of the shelter and into the now dusky evening. 

The quinjet was parked not far away, and Tony could make out Steve as he now ran towards the ship with Peter tucked in his grasp. Clint stood by the open door, waving them in. 

“Come on!” The archer called, his voice echoing into the twilight. “We’re all revved up!” 

When Tony entered the jet, he saw Peter already lying on a medical cot. Without invitation, he crawled in right beside the boy. 

Steve made a noise to protest the invasion of space, but he quickly shut his mouth and Tony was glad. Rogers would have had to answer to him later if he tried to pry Tony from Peter at this moment. 

Instead, the super-soldier got to work preparing medical supplies as the jet took off in the direction of the compound. 

Tony just layed in silence as he watched Peter’s chest barely rise. Relief washed over him like a cooling wave. Because now he knew; somewhere, deep in the unconscious mind of Peter Parker, he was alive and fighting. 

  
  


….

  
  


When Tony wakes for the second time that day, he is lying in a hospital bed in the medbay. The room is, thankfully, dark, and the small digital clock on the wall reads, 11:57 pm. 

He lays on his back for a few seconds, fatigue almost catching back up with him before he remembers the whole reason he was in the room in the first place. 

“Peter?” He says, voice dry as if the teenager might just materialize out of thin air. 

He doesn't get a response, but then his ears detect the second breathing pattern, and his head whips to the right. Peter is sleeping on a bed not ten feet from Tony’s own. 

And, thankfully, his chest is rising and falling at a normal rate. The heart monitor next to his bed beeps steadily, and Tony smiles softly. 

_ He’s okay.  _

With a groan, Tony pushes himself from his bed, and then eventually, to his feet. Fatigue still plagued his mind, so, slowly but surely, Tony makes his way to the child’s bedside. 

Careful not to disturb the sleeping spider-kid, Tony crawls in beside Peter. 

He only feels content once he was laying with his arm wrapped around Peter’s chest. So he could feel him inhale. Hear him exhale with that little whistle. Smell the absence of blood, and instead, the faint coconut shampoo that May buys for the boy. 

Peter’s curls tickle under Tony's eyes as the man tucks his head onto the pillow next to his kid. 

Finally, he let his eyes fall shut, and now, knowing that Peter was going to be okay and safe, he actually allowed himself to guiltlessly drift off and rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the response on the first chapter! Was motivated to finish and post this today. Will definitely post more whump and angst in the future. 
> 
> Kudos make my day, while comments and bookmarks make my week.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Kudos make my day, while comments and bookmarks make my week!


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